Clair de Lune

Reads: 373  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Children of the Light, hear the voice of the Night
Close your eyes...come under the Moon’s spell...
And give in, to the loving embrace of Darkness
(-- EErieFaery, 'Clair de Lune')

Submitted: February 26, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 26, 2007



Clair de Lune


In the darkness I hear his voice, singing me a song

And I cannot help but listen, even knowing that it’s wrong.

For I know who this is, and I have seen him before

But even though I know his darkness, the voice nails me to the floor.


His songs are sweet as poison; there are hidden meanings through

But so elegant the voice that sings them, that I know not what to do.

He has not come in many nights, and so I cannot sleep

Hoping against reason, that his voice I might could keep.


But now he comes to show his form, and I cannot help but sigh

For so long have I know but his voice, and now our meeting’s nigh.

So when I see him standing, beneath my balcony

I cannot help but join him, longing to be free.


Then I see the others, that hide in the forest below

And feeling now a fear, I hesitate to go.

Then I hear his voice once more, and once more I am bound

For while it is a spell he weaves, the words are so profound.


In the darkness they call to me, nothing but my name

And I cannot help but answer, even knowing why they came.

The moon has not risen, and the stars are far away

But before the coming light…I will leave before the day.


And soon they are all around me, a chorus in the night

And I take the leader’s hand, and give in without a fight.

Then I look beside me, and see that two are there

One is made of fire, the other of nightmare.


But I look to the leader, a child of darkness born,

And he is made of silver, and of a rose’s thorn.

And I think that I know him, but I cannot see his face

Then he speaks to me, and his name I cannot place.


His voice is wrought of nothing, or the depth of pulsing blood

But the words are so exquisite that I am lost within their flood.

Then he pulls his hand from mine, and my cheek he does caress,

And I cannot help but turn the talk, to that I must digress.


But he turns the subject back, and his hand he does remain

And then I feel as falling, and then I feel the rain.

And then I see the moonlight, and then I see his face

And then I see his eyes, and in them I see grace.


Then at last, we arrive, at out destination

And I cannot help but feel so much admiration.

The walls are full of ivy, with roses overgrown

And in the middle an opening, to let the moon be shown.


Then I hear the words, coming from those around

Finally, at last, his purpose I have found.

For I am of the light, and they are of the dark

And with me among them, a balance they will spark.


But then I feel a danger, and realize I was wrong

He does not sing of harmony, but a darkness song.

But then I search within me, and I find something is there:

That while he will bring me darkness, I find I do not care.

© Copyright 2018 PromisedSword. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: